


thunder only happens when it's raining

by lestered



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Meet-Cute (kind of), Strangers to Lovers, vague references to bullying and internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 17:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19480768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lestered/pseuds/lestered
Summary: Obviously Manchester isn’t perfect either. But he’s seen at least three same-sex couples playing tonsil hockey at this party alone, and no one’s batted an eyelash. There’s something to be said for the fact that this is probably the most comfortable he’s ever been at a house party, and really he’s just half-drunk in a room full of strangers.or: Dan wants to get something out of his system.





	thunder only happens when it's raining

**Author's Note:**

> originally conceived as an idea for pff’s pride flashfest, but finished waaaaaay late. millions of thanks to natasha ([@lvatt](https://lvatt.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) for holding me accountable and listening to all of my despairing while i wrote this.

There’s a boy across the room, and he’s the hottest thing Dan’s ever seen.

That’s saying kind of a lot, because Dan’s seen some things. Actually, he's seen many things. But that was back in the hellscape that he calls home, over 200 miles south of Manchester, and he really limited the type of stuff that he let himself see back there. 

He doesn’t regret it; it was for his own good. Or at least his own safety. Dozens of parties just like this, crowded rooms and loud music and cheap booze and fumbling around in the dark with too many girls and not feeling a fraction of the heat that he does looking at this boy’s broad, strong shoulders and long legs, his pretty pink lips and sharp cheekbones, and his scruffy black hair that sweeps over bright, ocean-blue eyes.

“You know, Phil’s not gonna shag you if all you do is stand here ogling him.”

Dan chokes on his drink, eyes watering as he coughs up the rum that’s burning its way town the wrong tube of his throat. “Fucking hell,” he rasps when he finally catches his breath. “Warn a guy.”

Cara - he’s pretty sure that’s her name - just grins, taking a long drink out of her own cup and leaning back against the wall next to him. He can’t remember if she lives in this house, or if she’s just a friend, or someone’s girlfriend, but she knows that Hot Boy’s name is Phil, and that means she fits with this crowd a lot better than he does. 

Not that that’s hard. He’s not even sure where he is, just that someone in his group of hallmates loosely defined as ‘friends’ was invited here, and now he has no idea where any of them are either. 

That doesn’t bother him too much, though. Cara’s nice. Nice enough to have introduced herself when she found him alone by the drinks table, at least. 

“Look, I really love Phil, but he’s _not_ astute,” she tells him, her words a tiny bit slurred and her voice laden with a thick Northern accent. “If you want him to know you fancy him, you really need to smack him over the head with it.”

_If you want him to know you fancy him._

Dan’s cheeks heat up and he narrowly avoids choking on his drink again, but can’t ignore the sudden churning of his stomach or his racing heartbeat.

 _Fancy him. Fancy_ **_him._ **

It’s a harmless phrase, isn’t it. Said so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he’s not disgusting. Like he’s not about to get punched or called a series of slurs for looking at a boy for more than 3 seconds.

He’s not upset. His veins are full of icy dread and his fight or flight response is rearing and ready to go but he’s _not_ upset. Cara picked up on him fancying a boy, but it doesn’t matter. She's clearly not bothered. 

That doesn’t change that fact that he kind of feels like he can’t breathe. He firmly but gently reminds himself that he’s been conditioned.

“Fancy him?” He finally manages with a pitchy laugh. "What are you on about?” 

Cara seems confused, but he guesses she has a right to be. She'd been the one to catch him staring, and he _knows_ he'd been visibly flustered when she asked him if he liked what he saw. He’s not giving off a heterosexual vibe. That's never been his strong suit, apparently.

 _That’s not a bad thing,_ he reminds himself. He’s not actively trying to do that anymore. That was part of the appeal of moving so far away. One of many, but definitely one of the biggest. 

Obviously Manchester isn’t perfect either. But he’s seen at least three same-sex couples playing tonsil hockey at this party alone, and no one’s batted an eyelash. There’s something to be said for the fact that this is probably the most comfortable he’s ever been at a house party, and really he’s just half-drunk in a room full of strangers. 

He tries to distract himself from how very unconvincing his lie must have been by chugging down the rest of his drink, suddenly not regretting the extra shot of rum he’d poured in for good measure.

Cara's still looking at him when he puts the cup down, though, her eyes careful and searching.

“Okay. You don’t fancy him,” she nods, pausing for another drink before looking across the room at Phil again. “It’d be no big deal if you did, though. He’s gay,” she pauses to give Dan another passing, faux-casual glance, “and you’re exactly his type.”

That causes another churning in his stomach, a different kind. Instead of the usual fear and guilt, this one comes with a blush and an urge to smile. He schools his features, or tries to. But Cara’s giving him a knowing look and he can’t help but let out a breathy laugh, crossing his arms and shuffling idly in his place. His heart’s beating faster now. 

He feels kind of silly for it, but the implication that someone - no, not just someone; another _boy_ _-_ might actually be attracted to him _and_ unashamed of it, is more exciting than he'd thought it would be.

“Shut up,” he finally mumbles, giving in but still doing his best to bite back the stupid grin that’s threatening to take over his face when he looks back across the room at Phil. “No way I’m his type.”

“Wanna bet?” Cara nudges him in the ribs with her elbow. Dan’s trying to come up with a retort when, as if on cue, Phil glances up and meets his gaze from across the room and Dan feels suddenly like he’s had the wind knocked out of him.

Cara notices. Of course she does.

“You know…” She sing-songs when Dan finally forces himself to look away after a few seconds longer than what he’d consider a casual amount of eye contact. “I could go talk to him for you.”

She’s got a playful, knowing glint in her eye.

Dan draws in a deep breath through his nose, swallows the lump in his throat, and exhales.

*

It starts off with Phil recognizing his _Twilight’s Last Gleaming_ shirt. Apparently they have the same taste in movies.

Turns out they also like a lot of the same TV shows. And animes, and bands, and video games. It’s kind of uncanny.

Somewhere in the middle of discussing their favorite Ghibli movies, Phil kisses him. 

Dan’s so stunned that he doesn’t return it at first. 

It’s not exactly the kiss itself that’s shocking; he thought they might get to that at some point. They’ve been tucked into a dark corner for well over an hour now, sharing a beanbag chair and shifting in closer and closer until Dan’s nestled right up to his side, Phil’s arm draped casually over his shoulders while their gazes flit between eyes and lips with gradually more intent. No, he realizes, the kiss has been a pretty long time coming.

What’s surprising is how soft and gentle Phil’s lips are against his own. He kisses him slowly and sweetly, without urgency or a hint of an expectation for anything more. He supposes that’s just what Phil’s like. That he’s just sweet. He seems that way.

He could also be projecting, because he's drunk and he hardly knows Phil at all. But he feels like he does. He may not know much about him as a person, or the details of his life, but he does know he feels like a safe space.

Okay, he’s definitely projecting a little. But he also trusts his gut instinct.

He only gathers himself enough to kiss back for about half a second before Phil pulls away, face flushed. Maybe from the alcohol, or maybe from something else.

“Uh… sorry,” Phil breathes out what sounds like a nervous laugh and ruffles a hand through his hair. “I never… I don’t usually just _kiss_ people, I swear, but you’re…” 

Dan doesn’t allow himself to think before surging forward and silencing Phil by pressing their mouths together again, this kiss much firmer and more assured than before. He feels Phil smiling against his lips when they part.

“Sorry,” he whispers, opening his eyes to meet Phil’s soft and slightly unfocused gaze. “I’m what?”

Phil’s arm moves from around his shoulders to wrap around his waist instead, and Dan has to look away for a second because there’s something like fondness glinting in Phil’s eyes and he’s feeling enough as it is, especially when he hears Phil’s soft, murmured response. 

“You’re cute.”

*

It's chilly enough outside that Dan slightly regrets wearing only a short-sleeved shirt. The October air bites at his cheeks, but the alcohol coursing through his veins and Phil's flannel clad arms wrapped around his waist are keeping him decently warm, so things could definitely be worse.

"Anyway," he whispers, his eyes fluttering shut when Phil presses a kiss to a particularly sensitive spot behind his ear. "That's why... fuck-- that's why Final Fantasy VII has the best soundtrack."

Phil nods and trails his lips up from Dan's jaw to meet him in another kiss. "Interesting," he mumbles. "VIII was always my favorite, but you make a compelling argument." Dan can feel him smiling when he presses another kiss to his cheek, and he tries not to get caught up in the way that his heart keeps somersaulting over in his chest.

Phil's lips find his again and he draws in a deep breath through his nose to collect himself. He focuses first on his senses - on the warm press of Phil's body against his own, on the muted sound of the party music seeping through the walls, on the whistling of the wind and the way Phil's lips taste like vodka and cranberry juice and the scent of cigarette smoke coming from somewhere nearby. He's not sure where. As far as he can tell they're alone on this porch, but there could always be someone lurking around the corner. The thought might terrify him in another context, but here it feels alright. Not completely, but it's that thing about Phil - the thing that makes Dan feel somehow assured that Phil really isn't the type to put him in any danger. Phil knows this place better than he does, knows this crowd better than he does, and if he thinks that sucking face outside this house party is fair game, then fuck, Dan's gonna trust him.

"Your turn," he murmurs when their lips part, swapping their positions so that Phil's pressed back against the outside wall of the house and Dan's mouth is latched onto his neck.

Phil's hands scramble for purchase on his back, fingers bunching in the loose fabric of Dan's t-shirt.

"Right, um..." Dan feels Phil's throat vibrate against his lips and has to force himself not to grin like an idiot. "We were doing... uh... soundtracks?"

Dan nods.

"Right." Phil takes a deep breath - Dan knows this because he can feel the rise and fall. "So, the soundtrack to _Once More, With Feeling..._ "

Dan snorts against the soft skin of Phil's neck, despite himself. "The soundtrack to what?"

“The Buffy musical episode,” Phil replies easily. “Christ, I thought you had good taste. Now I’m second guessing myself.”

Dan pauses, then pulls back. “There’s a Buffy musical episode?”

Phil’s eyes widen comically. “That’s it.” He dramatically drops his arms from around Dan’s waist. “I can’t sleep with someone who doesn’t know Buffy. I’m sorry, but I have standards.”

Phil's some kind of Buffy fanboy, then, which is objectively adorable. Dan just can't bring himself to appreciate that right now, though, because of the other thing Phil's just said.

_I can’t sleep with someone._

_Sleep with someone._

Sleep with him. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that Phil would want to go any further than this. Which is stupid, because if this were a party back home and he was doing this with a girl, he’d expect it to be headed exactly in that direction. With Phil, though, it feels different. The realization hits him sort of like a freight train.

It must show, because Phil immediately follows up, his voice quieter and a little nervous. “I mean… only if you want to,” he tells him, fidgeting with one of the buttons on his shirt. “No pressure, I just kinda thought…” Phil trails off, seemingly waiting for Dan to say something, but he still can’t find any words. 

“Right, I’m sorry.” Phil finally stammers. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. We don’t… if you don’t want— “

“I want to.” Dan cuts him off without thinking. He feels light and floaty and a little foggy and kind of scared, but he knows with complete certainty that he wants Phil.

Phil’s eyes seem to search his face for a moment, and he must look alright now because the worried creases in Phil’s forehead eventually smooth out and there’s a new sort of weight to his gaze and his smile when Phil reaches out to take his hand. 

“Alright. Wanna get out of here, then?”

*

 _Getting out of here_ apparently means stumbling upstairs and into a bedroom about halfway down the hall. That’s probably for the best - his nerves and desperation are both building fast so the sooner he gets Phil alone, the better, and he’s not sure how capable either of them would be at walking much further than this anyway. 

He’s no sooner got the door closed behind him that Phil’s pressing him back against it, crashing their mouths back together and reaching out for the light switch with one hand, fumbling only a little bit. As if he already knew exactly where it was.

“Uh, is this your room?” He asks when Phil tugs him backwards towards the bed with what seems again to be practiced ease. He hadn’t imagined that this was Phil’s place, but he supposes it’s likely enough. They’d had more interesting things to talk about than their accommodations.

Phil’s first response is to tumble them both onto the bed, climb over on top of him and press a number of urgent kisses into Dan’s neck. 

“No, not mine,” he murmurs then, just as Dan’s starting to think that maybe Phil hadn’t heard him. “My house is a couple streets away, my mate Ian lives here. It’s cool though, he hooked up so many times in my bed last year, he owes me.”

That strikes a bit of a strange chord with Dan, though he's not really sure why, and he finds himself squirming.

"...Oh," he whispers.

He lets his eyes flutter open slowly. Suddenly the ceiling looks like it’s descending. He doesn’t recall feeling terribly drunk before, but now the light in the room seems too bright. It hurts his eyes. They water and his vision goes even blurrier and he squeezes them shut again.

Phil lands another kiss on his neck, then his cheek, then on his lips, and Dan barely registers it. His chest tightens as it dawns on him that he’s about to have sex with a boy for the first time ever. 

It dawns on him that Phil’s _not._

It’s a given that Phil’s done this before. Phil’s older than him and more assured than him and he clearly knows what he’s doing. He’s touching and kissing him in all the right spots and whispering all the little bits of praise that Dan wants to hear. Phil’s not confused or scared.

That should be reassuring.

That _should_ be reassuring.

He doesn’t know that he’s shaking until he hears Phil’s voice, high pitched and concerned as he repeats Dan’s name again and again. 

“Dan… Dan?” He feels Phil nudging at his shoulder cautiously. His eyes fly open to find that Phil’s rolled off of him, now propped up on one elbow on his side with eyes full of what seems like mostly apprehension, and maybe a bit of fear. He sighs out in relief when they make eye contact. “Oh, thank God. You went somewhere else for a second.” 

“Sorry,” Dan answers automatically, propping himself up too and drawing in a deep breath. “I’m fine. We can keep going.”

He tries to ignore the skepticism in Phil’s eyes when he leans in to kiss him again. He’s disappointed but not exactly surprised when Phil’s lips are dry and unmoving against his. 

“Phil, it’s fine,” he whispers. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat when he tries to kiss Phil again, sweat prickling the back of his neck. “I’m fine, promise.”

But Phil just sits up.

“I think…” Phil sighs, scratching his jaw and pressing his back against the headboard. “Fuck. I don’t think this is a good idea.” He casts Dan an apologetic look, his eyes bleary and his hair messed up and his shirt halfway unbuttoned. _God._

“I think we’re too drunk.” Phil hurries to explain when Dan doesn’t respond. “It’s not you.”

It clearly _is_ him, though, Dan can tell. He’s definitely the problem. Because things had been going pretty great before he’d gone and gotten weird about it. 

He breathes in deep, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I’m not that drunk.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He can't believe what he's about to admit, but what does it really matter. He's already embarrassed as hell. “I’m… I’m nervous.”

Phil casts him a quizzical look, and Dan sighs in defeat.

“I’ve never done this before.” 

Phil’s expression stays confused for a moment before the realization dawns. “Oh! Oh. I mean… oh.” He pauses for a moment. “You’ve never had sex before?”

“Not with a guy.” He clarifies quietly. He’d really like nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He knows he sounds like a loser, and the longer that Phil doesn’t respond, the worse it is. 

When Phil finally does speak up, though, it’s not quite what he expects.

“I hadn’t either,” he says quietly. Dan feels the bed shift when Phil scoots closer to him again. “Before I got to uni, I mean. No one from home knows I’m gay. Not even my family.”

Something about that makes Dan feel around 20 pounds lighter. It gives him courage to actually look at Phil again. “Yeah?” He asks quietly. He feels vulnerable and small, but Phil’s expression is so patient and earnest that Dan almost feels like he could cry. Phil’s a stranger. And yet, Dan can’t remember the last time anyone looked at him this way. He’s not sure anyone ever has.

“Me neither,” he says, his voice small and soft. “Enough of them think that I am, I guess. Or if they didn't really, then they needed to make up some reason to hate me. But I’m not, um.” He clears his throat. “Not actually out. To anyone. At all.” 

The silence that falls between them then isn’t excruciating like before. It’s calm. Soothing, almost. 

“I really like you, Dan,” Phil whispers after a while. “Like… I _really_ like you.” He feels Phil’s shoulder bump gently against his own and he shifts in closer and when he turns his head Phil’s _right_ there. He barely has to lean in at all when Phil kisses him softly.

It feels really good, but it’s lacking the heat from before. “So…” Dan whispers when they break apart. “Do you still wanna—”

“Yeah.” Phil interrupts him. “I do, I seriously do. But… not right away?”

Dan pouts to mask his actual disappointment, but the smile that it earns from Phil makes it well worth it. “Look,” Phil laughs. “I’m not someone who thinks your first time needs to be perfect, or with your soulmate, or even with someone really special, but it should at least be, like. Pretty good. And I can totally do better than this.”

Dan feels himself blush as he glances around the room. He can't deny that Phil’s right - it’s not the nicest atmosphere with its ugly posters and bad lighting and soda cans and dirty laundry strewn across the floor. Ian doesn’t seem to have his whole aesthetic nailed down just yet. He also notes that there’s a nagging pain in the back of his head, intensifying the more his buzz wears off, and he’s tired and his skin is tacky with sweat. 

Yeah. Dan’s pretty sure that _he_ can do better than this, too.

“Right,” Dan sighs out a bit of a laugh, relishing in the wave of relief that comes along with it. “I can handle a rain check, I guess.” That doesn't change the fact that Phil’s really cute, though. Really cute and really _hot._ Even if they’re not about to have sex, he really doesn't want to pull himself away.

“What about until then?” He asks. His stomach does another little flip, a different kind, when Phil grabs his hand and tugs him up off the bed.

“Until then,” Phil smiles, a teasing glint in his eye when he presses a quick, chaste kiss against his lips. “You’re coming home with me. You have a Buffy musical to watch.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> title from [dreams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrZRURcb1cM) by fleetwood mac
> 
> [like/reblog](https://emofringe.tumblr.com/post/186066620981/emofringe-thunder-only-happens-when-its)/talk to me on tumblr if you want! [@emofringe](https://emofringe.tumblr.com/)


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